All That Was and Had Been
by NotMarge
Summary: A consideration of the complex character of the mutant Mystique.


I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

I am not Jennifer Lawerence. I am hyperactive and silly sometimes though.

All That Was and Had Been

* * *

She hadn't always been tall and lithe. And bold. And confident.

But she had always been a scaly, yellow-eyed, blue shape-shifter. For as long as she could remember.

Even as a child.

She could remember feeling fear. All the time, fear. That someone would discover her true identity, her true form.

Her parents had not understood.

She had heard them talking. About how she was unnatural. Unholy. They were embarrassed and thought that some mistake in their genes had caused it.

It had broken her heart.

And so she had left. So that she may no longer cause them unhappiness. She had left a note saying she loved them and that she was sorry she was a bad blue daughter.

After that, she had been all alone. Hungry and scared and afraid.

Until she had met him.

Charles Xavier.

Her mutant brother.

He was kind and loving and gentle and intelligent.

He was a good brother.

Except . . . he wanted her to stay hidden as well.

He had encouraged her to cloak her natural blue form in human guise, in human clothes. In human activities.

And that was okay.

Because he still loved her.

And she knew she wasn't naturally pretty. Not all blue and yellow and red.

Not her.

And so she had trained herself to hide her true form. In pale skin and blond hair and normalcy.

And that was okay.

But it always ate away at her just a little bit.

_Mutant and proud. _

Ugh, that snobby, little, dull-witted twit. _That_ was what she was supposed to be like? Revolting. She felt she could be so much more. If she only knew how. And what.

And then she had met him.

Erik Lehnsherr.

And he was different from everyone else. More mature and sauve. More direct and accepting. More mysterious and reserved. More dark. More brooding.

She really didn't notice him too much at first. She was too taken with Hank. Poor, brilliant, shy, sweet Hank. Hank, whom she thought understood her and accepted her.

Only he didn't. He wanted what Charles wanted. For her to look and be like everyone else.

And she didn't think she wanted that anymore.

She didn't know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she wanted to be free. And she wanted everyone else to be free as well.

And then there was Erik.

Erik, who knew exactly what he was and what he was going to do.

Erik.

Erik thought she was perfection in her blue form. That she was powerful. That she was beautiful.

Tantalizing and alluring even.

Which she had not been expecting.

But that revelation, that acceptance, that experience had changed everything for her.

But which had opened her up to an entirely new way of thinking about herself.

Erik had made her realize that she shouldn't have to hide anymore.

And so she had revealed herself. Au natural. And blue.

Which had been so very difficult to do.

To be so absolutely . . . exposed.

And so for a while, she had compromised. Blue form partially covered with clothing.

And then the time had come.

The most difficult decision she had ever made.

Leaving Charles. Shot. Hurt. Bleeding into the sand.

Taking his proffered hand.

Erik.

Erik, who wanted her just as she was.

Leaving then. Just when Charles needed her most.

Because he said she could.

Because it was her only shot to go with those who truly accepted her. And wanted freedom for all mutants.

And would do whatever it took to obtain it.

She had not known if she would get another chance to join them.

And so she had left her brother to go with Erik.

But she had tried to reach out once more.

Because she did indeed care.

She had kissed Charles' precious forehead even as tears slipped from both their eyes.

Speaking one final time to that shy, uncertain boy now covered in powerful muscles and blue fur.

_And, Beast. Remember, mutant and proud._

Because she did indeed care.

Leaving in a flash, in a sudden.

Gone.

And her heart had broken.

So very badly.

Though she'd thought it was the right thing for her to do.

And Erik, he had understood. Or if not understood, accepted.

Until she was ready.

Ready to learn to fight. To learn to strategize. To learn to plan, to choose, to stand.

All these things and more.

Learning from them. With them. Erik. Azazel. Riptide. Angel.

Somewhat timidly at first. So self-conscious of her nearly naked blue form on display for everyone to see. Slowly becoming more confident with herself and accepting their acceptance as well.

She had _believed_ in their cause. She had _believed_ in his words. She had _believed_ they could succeed.

Things hadn't be perfect. There was of course, _her_. Emma Frost. Big attitude. Big hair. Big, well, big _everything_.

How could anyone not look at _her_? And her big . . . assets.

Now that Erik, Magneto, had had her, so young and inexperienced, would he grow weary of her and look at Emma Frost instead?

She had tried to have faith, she had tried not to be suspicious, jealous.

Sometimes she succeeded. Sometimes she failed.

She had believed everything was going to work out. They would _make_ it work out.

She had believed that.

Right up until everything had gone wrong. Mutant president dead. Erik captured.

Azazel. He had saved her.

The second it happened and her world exploded, he had grabbed her and teleported them both away.

She had been furious.

"Why did you do that?! We have to go back! We have to save him!"

The tall, red man shook his head firmly.

"No. Not the plan. You must be safe."

She had struck at him in a fury.

"Safe?! _Safe?!_ Why must _I_ be safe?! Why do _you_ get to decide that for _me_?!"

He had remained stoic, enduring her rage without compliant.

"Not me. Magneto. Contingency plan. Keep you safe."

And she had stopped. Because it was useless to argue with the big, red devil.

Erik, gone. Blamed for assassination. Ridiculous. Did the stupid humans know _nothing_? He had been trying to _save_ the mutant president, not kill him.

Riptide. Emma. Angel.

Little by little. Scattered. Gone. Kidnapped.

No doubt experimented on and killed.

All gone.

Except Azazel. That big, red, steadfast devil.

And oh how she hated him.

For three long years, she hated him.

Everything about him.

Until one day she looked.

And saw him.

And didn't hate him anymore.

And he didn't hate her.

In fact, he apparently never had.

Guilt.

That was her first and strongest emotion.

Crushing guilt.

That she had betrayed the long gone Erik.

And she had stewed in her guilt. Because she deserved to.

Until she finally decided all they had was each other.

All they had was now.

And she had laid her guilt down.

And she had felt better.

Maybe not completely happy and free, but better.

Until he was gone too.

Captured.

And she was all alone. Again.

Well, not alone.

Azazel had left her with something.

Her son, Kurt.

She had not known what was going to happen. What he was going to be like. What she was going to do.

Until she had him. Held him in her arms. Cradled him to her breast. Looked into his eyes.

And then she knew.

She would do whatever she had to do to ensure his safety.

Her baby mutant son.

Because if she did not fight for him, who would?

They had hidden away from the world. In a convent of nuns. Some of whom were mutant. All of whom were accepting of the little child.

Because life, in any form, is precious.

She had heard rumors. Whispers. Dark tales.

Of an imp. An brilliant scientist. A mutant murderer. A man on a mission.

Bolivar Trask.

She was shocked when she first laid yellow eyes on him. How could much death and destruction could come from such a small person? With his impressive coif of dark hair, that droopy mustache, and those big round glasses. He almost looked ridiculous.

Until you looked in his ice blue eyes and saw the power of his conviction. The zeal of his belief. The cold-hearted determination that would bring about the downfall of them all.

Observing him and the carefully constructed words he spoke, she shuddered to guess he probably didn't even hate mutants. He probably even respected and admired them. Though that did not stop him from experimenting on them and killing them.

And so she had made her decision.

Bolivar Trask, him of the short statue, the impressive hair, icy eyes, must be stopped.

But stopping him would only delay his mission, not end it.

To truly end it, he must die.

And so she would have to kill him.

For her helpless brother and sister mutants he might target next. For herself. For her son.

And so now she must make another horribly difficult decision.

The decision to leave him.

Her son.

Little Kurt, five years old, pleading with her now not to go, not to leave him in the safety of the nuns.

Little Kurt, who looked so much like both of them and could scuttle from place to place, nearly invisible under cover of darkness.

He stood in the narrow corridor. Blocked her way with his tiny, blue, little boy body. He was iron. He was stone. He would not be moved.

Except his mother, with a heavy bleeding mother heart, moved him.

"Mommy got's to go make the world a better place for you," she said trying to gently disengage from the small child.

"Nein! Stay!"

He materialized into the air before her and wrapped his tiny blue arms and legs and tail around her. She squeezed him tightly, reveling in these last moments all she could in case she did not make it back again.

"I'm going to make the world safer for you, my little nightcrawler, and for all our mutant brothers and sisters."

Tears spilled from his big, dark, little boy eyes, and shimmering tears stood in her yellow ones.

He was so much like her and Azazel. His skin was a darker blue than hers and without the scales. He had a long prehensile tail like his father. His feet were cloven and each hand carried only two little fingers and a thumb. His hair was dark like his father's and he could teleport short distances only if he could see where he was going.

He had started teleporting two years ago right after his father was captured. Mystique had not intentionally told him. She and the mother superior had been talking quietly and the little boy had overheard them. He had teleported himself right into her arms in sobbing, frightened tears.

Now in present day, her special son was in her arms once again. She clutched him to her, her resolve trembling.

"I love you, Kurt. I will always love you. Remember that."

Then she handed him to the nun, who held him tightly as he cried and reached for her.

"Please, Sister. Please take good care of him. He's a good boy."

The human-looking nun nodded and sent soothing telepathic waves to young child, offering him peace and comfort. He shook his little head as though resisting calming mental images in favor of the retreating sight of his beloved blue mother.

She was walking away without looking back.

She couldn't look back. If she did, her son would see her cry.

And she didn't want that.

Because then she might not leave.

And she must. She must leave.

And so Mystique walked away.

With each step, she resolutely turned her weeping mother heart into an unfeeling block of cold stone.

And went out to kill the mutant murderer, Bolivar Trask.

* * *

**The "small person" statement is meant to be no disparagement to Mr. Peter Dinklage or any person with any form of dwarfism. I was simply commenting on the huge amount of presence and power the guy exudes. I love watching him in GoT (go team Tyrion!), Elf, Tiptoes, Ice Age: CD, Death at a Funeral, and X-Men DoFP. The dude's amazing! And if you watch his interviews, so funny and nice too! Anyway, 'nuff 'shipping there, yes?**

**Don't ask me why Mystique in the previous X-Men movies did not seem to care for her son Kurt. I'm going off cannon here and saying she does, okay? It's the mom in me.**

**And Alan Cumming? Excellent Nightcrawler. Even if the dude himself unsettles me.**

**Now if you'll excuse me, after writing Mystique leaving Kurt, I've got to go watch my son sleep for a minute. And if you think that's creepy, you're not a mom. :)**

**Thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, my mystery guest, I've Been a Labrat, Pepper9873, Shanynde, Voodoo-Mutant-Child, brigid1318, enigma939, and angeleye02 for taking the time to read and review. **

**Thanks to cavco, Jenna of the Red Robes, Mog161, mokonahapuuuuuu, Hermione Sparkle, Jasper6509, cherryblossomfallingintherain, and The Irish Rose for adding your support to this lil' fic.**

**Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave review if you like.**


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